No Heroics
by Mr Evil 37
Summary: Follow a pair of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, as they traverse the war-torn streets of Old Mombasa to defend a crashed Hornet. But as the fight intensifies, can they hold off the overwhelming Covenant forces to save one survivor? One shot.


_Author's Note:_

_I wrote this story over the last two days after I had finished the first draft of my new original short "Gravity". I wanted to do something completely different so that when I got to do the edits and revisions for "Gravity" I will do so with a clear mind. So, here is the result._

_I also wanted to convey the visceral horrors of the war with the Covenant, something that the games only touch on (though it looks like Reach will explore this a lot more). However, the main theme of this story is true heroism, shown through the ODSTs as they fight to defend the crash site. This kind of honest portrayal of war, and the kind of environment they are fighting in, creates many parallels with the conflicts of today, which was intentional. Another reason why I wrote this story is that I wanted to practice writing action, for I have not done this in a while and it will play a major part in many of my future projects._

_Inspirations for this story include Halo 3: ODST, the live action shorts Halo: Landfall and We Are ODST, but my main inspiration was Black Hawk Down._

_Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy it :D_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of the Halo franchise, but the characters I use in this story are my own. I do not seek to make money from this story or to infringe copyright; I simply want to have fun and advance my writing skills._

* * *

**Halo: No Heroics **

**An ODST Short Story**

**By Mr Evil 37**

_**Old Mombasa, Kenya, Earth, October 20****th**** 2552.**_

The immense booms of jet engines deafened the two ODSTs, as they sprinted down the street, dilapidated buildings all around them.

_Wombats_, Reilly thought, referring to the unmanned aerial drones zooming overhead.

Ahead of Reilly, his team mate Connor reached the corner of the road and flattened himself up against the bullet hole-ridden wall. Reilly quickly followed suit as Connor slowly aimed his SRS99D sniper rifle around the corner.

"Clear?" Reilly asked, hefting his own M7S submachine gun.

There was no reply and a brief lull in the heavy sand storm for a moment. Reilly opened his mouth to spea-

Crack.

The sniper rifle bucked explosively in Connor's arms, the shot nearly deafening Reilly and echoing throughout the ruined streets.

"It is now," Connor said smugly. "I can see the crash site from here. At the end of the street."

"Move out."

Connor quickly turned the corner, followed by Reilly, and both of them began sprinting hard. Reilly saw the mangled body of a Jackal lying on the floor, a gaping hole through its skull and purple blood spewed all over the harsh yellow sand.

Two green bolts of plasma suddenly zoomed out of nowhere. Still running, Reilly saw a Grunt appear from a ruined house on the other side of the street. The ODST quickly raised his sub machine gun on reflex, squeezing the trigger. The sound suppressor flared as he unleashed a short burst. Blue blood erupted from the stunted alien, as the rounds tore through its weak flesh, killing it instantly. Reilly hardly heard the muffled gunshots over the tumult of the sand storm.

They kept sprinting, their black combat boots kicking up sand behind them. The buildings around them were blocks of creams and yellows, with huge chunks taken out of them. Reilly's breathing was getting faster and faster, as the wind speeds did the same. More and more sand was being pelted at the ODSTs. Two more deafening booms were heard over head. _More Wombats._

Suddenly there was a huge green flash above them, accompanied by a loud crash mixed with the fizzle of burning plasma. _So much for Wombats_, Reilly thought.

"Banshees!" Reilly screamed into his helmet comm. "Move your ass, Connor!"

Connor moved his legs like pistons, sprinting forward to avoid the incoming debris all around them. Reilly's vision was obscured by sand, rocks and dust falling like bombs. He tried his best to avoid the large pieces of building, while sprinting hard and fast. After a few moments which felt like a few years, both ODSTs were clear of the debris and had reached the corner of the street.

Connor aimed through the scope on his sniper rifle, checking for hostiles. They had now come to a crossroads, with a dark cloud of dust and smoke billowing out from the centre. Reilly could just make out a large crater in the sand, along with the rough shape of what looked like a wing with a round propeller imbedded in the end. This wing was sticking out of the debris into the air.

As the prevailing winds began to clear the smoke from the crash site, Reilly could finally identify the crashed aircraft: a Hornet gunship. A rattle then echoed in the street, followed by two muzzle flares coming from the smoke, and the distinct shape of a man firing his weapon morphed out of the haze.

"There are survivors!" Reilly stated as he prepared to run across the road. "Watch my back."

Connor grunted a reply, as he aimed down the street to the left. Suddenly he pulled the trigger, the rifle punching back into his shoulder. The bullet pierced an unsuspecting Grunt's head, causing it to explode. This alerted the rest of the squad to their presence.

"You got my back, right Connor?" Reilly asked again, slower and more deliberate in his speech.

"Yes, I got your bloody back!" Connor yelled back in his British accent, firing the sniper rifle again.

Reilly poised himself to run across the road. _Just go,_ he thought. _Let Connor deal with the Covenant._ He checked that his SMG was loaded and ready, before setting off at a sprint.

His feet pounded against the sand, kicking up huge plumes of the sediment behind him. His breathing got faster and faster, the sound of it muffled inside his helmet. The way point blinked in the centre of his heads up display, which was projected inside his visor. Suddenly blue and green plasma fire rained all around him. A bolt lashed his right arm, burning and melting the black armour plating. No pain. It hadn't gone through.

Behind Reilly there were two great booms. The plasma fire instantly stopped. _Thanks Connor. _But as his mind relaxed, the contorted form of a Jackal wielding a Carbine emerged from behind the wreckage to Reilly's right. The alien managed to get two shots off. The green projectiles whooshed past him, missing by centimetres. The ODST quickly brought his SMG up, aiming through the red reflex sight. He let off a short burst. Within nano seconds spurts of purple blood shot out from the things arteries, and it dropped like a stone.

_Stupid!_ He could hear his training Sergeant screaming in his ear during live round exercises. _Never let your guard down. You relax, you die!_

Reilly waded through the thick smoke until he reached the wreckage, crouching down behind a large piece of metal debris. The surviving Marine knelt beside him, his eyes wide in terror, his face drenched in sweat and his hands shaking.

"Hey, we're here to help," Reilly said, as reassuringly as he possibly could in the middle of a warzone. "What's your name?"

"P-Private Scott, sir," he stammered in reply, almost hugging his MA5C assault rifle to his chest.

"Listen, Scott," Reilly said, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna get you out of here. You hear me?"

Scott nodded slowly, gripping the assault rifle tighter. Reilly guessed that this young Marine was no more than twenty years old, likely just out of training. Probably an emergency replacement; this many years into the war, nearly everyone was. _Including me_, Reilly thought.

"Are there anymore survivors?"

"T-the pilot... he's alive, but unconscious. I think he's injured..." Scott said timidly, trailing off into silence.

"Okay..." Reilly said, thinking, and then pointed in the direction of Connor. "The pilot can stay where he is for now. We need to lay down some covering fire for my teammate."

Scott nodded again, and cycled the bolt on his MA5C, as he readied himself for more battle. Reilly quickly looked over the piece of debris they were using as cover. He saw a large squad of Grunts and Jackals, as well as a hulking Brute.

"You seeing what I'm seeing, Connor?" he asked into his helmet comm.

"Unfortunately," he replied, his voice tinged with static.

"Okay, run across on my mark," Reilly said. "Scott, you ready?"

The Marine nodded. Reilly began counting down from three on his fingers.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Mark!"

Both Reilly and Scott stood up. Reilly opened fire with his suppressed SMG, taking out two Grunts instantly.

But suddenly a long blue and white beam zoomed from one of the rooftops, and a red splatter covered Reilly's visor. Before Reilly could react, a plasma grenade went off right in front of him, the blue blast sending him crashing to the ground. It was then that he saw the horrific sight in front of him.

Scott's body no longer had a head. All that was left was a bloody stump for a neck, and blood, flesh and skull fragments littering the floor. The beam of energy had caused Scott's skull to explode. Reilly sat on the floor, staring at the headless body. His eyes were wide with shock and horror; all he could see was the scared face of an inexperienced Marine, after Reilly had promised that they would get them out of here.

"Hey, I thought you were supposed to be cov-," Connor's voice began, as the armoured ODST knelt down beside Reilly. "Holy Christ."

Reilly forced himself to snap out of it. _Get up, soldier,_ his drill Sergeant yelled. _It's war. Death happens. Get the hell up and make sure it doesn't happen to you to! _Reilly clumsily got to his feet, retrieving his SMG in the process.

"Jackal sniper," he said, detached. "Beam rifle. Right rooftop."

Without a second thought, Connor raised the sniper scope violently to his eyes, as if wanting to get revenge. Knowing Connor, he probably did. He aimed for the briefest of moments, before letting off a shot with a loud crack.

"Bastard," he said. "Situation?"

"Pilot's alive. Unconscious. Possibly injured. Go check on him."

Connor immediately climbed onto the wrecked fuselage of the Hornet, being careful to stay low and within the smoke to avoid getting shot at. Reilly activated his long range comm. inside his helmet, while setting about the horrific task of searching Scott's mangled remains for anything of use.

"This is Reilly," he said into the comm. "We're at the crash site. The pilot is alive, repeat, alive. Requesting immediate evac."

While waiting for a response, he retrieved Scott's MA5C assault rifle, checked the magazine and attached the rifle to the magnetic clip on the back of his armour. He then rummaged through the dead man's pockets, trying not to look at the cold lifeless face, and found a lone fragmentation grenade.

All Reilly heard in reply was static.

"This is Reilly, come in," he said again. "Come in!"

More static.

"You gotta be kidding!" Connor yelled from up in the cockpit, while he tended to the wounded pilot.

"This storm must be interfering with our long range comm.," Reilly stated matter-of-factly.

Reilly then found something inside Scott's pocket that killed him inside. It was a small, dirty photograph of a beautiful young woman holding a tiny baby in her arms. Next to the mother and child was the tall figure of Scott, almost unrecognisable from the huge smile across his face.

Connor came back down from the fuselage, muttering curses under his breath; curses at the radio, at the crashed Hornet and at the Covenant themselves.

Reilly simply held up the photograph to Connors helmet. Reilly could imagine that inside that silver visor the annoyance on his face was being immediately replaced by sorrow and regret.

"Oh God, no..." he said trailing off.

Reilly blinked a small tear out of his eyes, invisible to Connor inside his helmet, and ejected the magazine for his SMG before speaking.

"That," he said, pointing to the remains of Scott. "That will not happen to that pilot."

Connor's helmet simply nodded in grim agreement, as he quickly reloaded his sniper rifle and took up cover to Reilly's right.

"How is the pilot?" Reilly asked as he slapped a new magazine into his SMG and began aiming down the street.

"Still out of it. Leg looks broken, but he's not trapped so he'll be easy to move."

Connor then fired his sniper rifle, the shot causing the methane tank on a Grunt to burst in blue flame. Reilly responded with two bursts from his SMG, dropping two Grunts and a Jackal.

The Covenant were growing in numbers now. From out of the sand more and more Grunts and Jackals appeared, a hail of plasma fire burning and fizzing on their cover.

Connor unleashed another sniper round. Reilly followed the trail only to find a spurt of purple blood and a dead Brute lying on the floor. Reilly fired burst after burst of his M7, dropping Grunts and Jackals all over the place.

Two Brutes suddenly appeared out of nowhere a few feet in front of the two ODSTs, their jetpacks deactivating as they landed. They began firing their Spikers. Superheated metal spikes sliced through their cover and the fuselage above them, forcing Reilly and Connor to duck.

Connor began firing his silenced M6S pistol blindly at the Brutes, to no effect. Reilly acted on instinct and fished out the frag grenade from Scott's pocket. He armed it and lobbed it over his cover at the Brutes.

Three.

Two.

Boom.

_So much for three second fuses_, Reilly thought. Both ODSTs brought their weapons up again, opening fire on the Covenant. The explosion had blasted arms off the two Brutes. The remains of aliens were slumped on the dry, sandy ground, a pool of purple blood slowly oozing out.

The barrage of suppressed muzzle fire from Reilly's SMG was almost inaudible over the tumult of the sandstorm, coupled with the booms of Connors sniper rifle and the fizz of plasma.

Reilly then heard a noise he had not expected. High pitched yelling and moaning was coming from behind them, inside the wreckage of the Hornet.

_The pilot_, Reilly thought with worry.

"Connor!" Reilly yelled, throwing his SMG to the other ODST. "Cover me!"

Connor looked around as he heard the moaning, acknowledging it, but quickly returned to the fight with two cracks of the sniper rifle in quick succession. Two Brutes fell instantly. He then dropped the rifle and let off a burst with the M7.

While his team mate held off the overwhelming Covenant forces, Reilly climbed the rubble carefully until he reached the cockpit of the Hornet. Partially buried under rock, the glass shattered and broken, Reilly could see the pilot raising a blood soaked up into the air. The ODST quickly took hold of it tightly with his gloved hands.

"We're here," he said reassuringly. "We're gonna get you out of here."

Reilly used his other hand to retrieve his own M6S pistol, before placing it firmly in the hand of the pilot.

"We gotta hold them off," he waved to his left and right. "You see anyone come round these corners, you watch our backs, got it?"

The wounded pilot nodded, his helmet bobbing up and down. He slowly checked the pistol, making sure that it was loaded and ready to fire. But before Reilly could head back to cover, the pilot spoke in a quiet, croaky voice.

"What's your name?"

Reilly was momentarily taken aback by the question, especially considering their current situation. And yet he felt humbled in some way; the pilot wanted to know the names of the two people who were going to save him.

"Reilly," he said at last, before pointing to his squad mate. "That's Connor. You watch our backs, alright?"

The pilot nodded, quicker and more confident this time, as he raised the pistol above the wreckage of the Hornet cockpit. Reilly's mouth then acted without any input from his brain.

"Good luck."

He hadn't wanted to say it. He had wanted to reassure the pilot, to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that he was going to _live._ He had not wanted to emphasise the dire situation they were in. But his stupid mouth had acted before his brain could intervene.

Reilly forced the thoughts out of his mind, as he returned to cover. Connor immediately threw his M7S back.

"It's out," he said, before letting off a sniper shot.

"I don't have unlimited ammo, you know," Reilly retorted, irritated, as he slap a new clip onto his SMG.

"Yeah, that sure would have been handy," Connor replied, nodding in the direction the Covenant were coming from; down the street to the left of the one they had arrived from.

Connor was right. The Covenant now numbered in the dozens, the sand storm likely hiding more. Blue and green plasma cascaded out of nowhere, along with razor sharp purple needles and super heated spikes.

Two Grunts and Brute suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Reilly squeezed the trigger on his SMG. It bucked lightly in his arms, and the two Grunts fell. The ODST continued to empty the magazine into the Brute. The alien's energy shields flickered away with a flash, exposing the thick flesh.

Click, click, click, click, click, click. He was out of ammo already, and the Brute was almost right on top of him.

Suddenly there was a deafening crack, and the Brutes head exploded. Brain and skull fragments rained down on Reilly's black ODST armour.

"Thanks, man," Reilly said, shocked.

"No problem. Now get the hell up and help me kill some Covies," Connor said, as he fired another shot.

Reilly quickly snapped out of it, and got to his feet. He reloaded his SMG once more; he only had two more full magazines remaining. He fired off a burst, killing a Jackal, while Connor took down two Brutes with two well placed headshots.

Despite his grumpy and stubborn nature, Connor was the best marksmen Reilly had ever met. And it really showed. But after all this shooting he would surely be running out of ammo. They could not hold out for much longer.

The low rumbling of engines could be heard again overhead, before Connor, looking through his scope down the street, ducked.

"Incoming!" he yelled into his helmet comm.

Reilly instantly dropped to the floor, covering his head with his hands despite the fact that he was wearing a helmet. The engines grew from a low rumble to a high whine, when suddenly a huge green flash erupted out of nowhere right next to their cover. All sound was instantly drowned out and all he could hear was bells ringing as he raised his head.

The crack of Connor's sniper rifle sounded extremely far away and muffled inside Reilly's ears, and his own silenced SMG was completely inaudible. Two more Grunts fell by his hand as the silence persisted. Green plasma shot past his head, narrowly missing, before stopping instantly with another crack from Connor's rifle.

As sound began to rush back to Reilly's ears, deafening him for the briefest of moments, his SMG clicked empty again. He quickly reloaded, before he heard two high pitched squeals from behind him. He whizzed around, only to hear two muffled pings. The two Grunts instantly fell, as Reilly saw a hand with an M6S pistol poking out of the broken glass of the Hornet cockpit.

_Thanks_, Reilly thought; as he gave a brief thumbs up to the pilot, before returning to aim down the street.

More and more Covenant were pouring into the fray, as if the entire army wanted a piece of the action. The ODSTs continued to hold them off for a few minutes, but as ammo dwindled it became apparent that they would not be able to hold out for much longer. After trying again on the radio, and again getting nothing but static, Connor decided to take matters into his own hands.

"We aren't going to hold out for much longer like this," he said, before pointing over to the dilapidated buildings on his right. "I'm going to head over there and snipe these bastards. We need to thin their numbers, and I can't see crap from here. Cover me."

He stood up to run, but Reilly immediately reached out and grabbed his leg, pulling him back down. He then placed his hand firmly on the shoulder of his team mate, as super heated spikes and plasma hailed all around them.

"No, Connor," Reilly said as if it was an order. "No heroics, that's what Sarge always told us. Heroics get you killed, just like Scott there."

"Look, if we don't get rid of some of those Brutes and Jackal snipers, then you, me and that pilot over there are dead," he said, trying to break away from Reilly's firm grip. "Scott will have died for nothing!"

After a moment Reilly nodded reluctantly, realising what they had come here to do. They had both decided to risk their lives to secure a perimeter around the crashed Hornet, making sure any survivors stayed that way in the process. They were highly trained Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, trained to handle the worse situations. They could do this. He cycled the bolt on his SMG and got ready to lay down suppressing fire for his team mate.

"Cover me," Connor repeated, as he poised himself to run. "Suppressing fire now!"

And with that Connor sprinted across the sandy road, kicking up huge plumes of the stuff, as Reilly opened up with his SMG. He compensated for the recoil, and managed to kill three or four Grunts plus a couple of Jackals before the M7 clicked empty once more and he was forced to reload.

As he was reloaded, he saw something out of the corner of his eye that filled him with dread and horror. Reilly turned to face his team mate, who was still running, although not for much longer.

Reilly's world seemed to slow down, half a second drawn out to five. He watched as the green Carbine projectile pierced Connors right shoulder pad. He stumbled, but kept on running. Then another punctured his leg. This time the ODST fell, crashing hard to the floor in a great plume of dust. He fired off a blind shot with his sniper rifle, and tried to force himself onto his feet to no avail.

But finally another green beam lanced out from somewhere down the road, and punched straight through the silver visor on Connor's black helmet. The visor shattered as the projectile lodged itself in his skull, his brain ceasing to function immediately. His body slumped limply against the hard ground.

Reilly's mind was overwhelmed by the shock and horror of what had just happened. He couldn't think, couldn't act, and couldn't do anything except stare at the dead body of his long time friend. Nothing forged friendships like being in the military and being an ODST was in a different league. You dropped into hell with your team mates, literally, and that made you more than friends. That made you brothers.

Connor had always had his back. _Always_. And now he was gone.

Rage rose within Reilly. Rage at Connor for running out, rage at himself for not helping, and rage at the Covenant for killing his friend. Screaming in anger, Reilly jumped up and opened up with the full force of his SMG. He sprayed bullets across his field of vision, killing Grunts and Jackals in the process. The silenced barrage of shots was completely inaudible. Plasma rained down on the wreckage and debris all around him, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was kill as many of these aliens as he possibly could.

A green fuel rod blast from another Banshee ended his spree of rage. The shockwave sent him flying back. He hit the ground hard, as he heard the whoosh of the Banshee overhead. He quickly got to his feet and let off his final burst of the SMG before it clicked empty for the final time. He dropped down behind cover instantly, avoiding a superheated spike that shot through the air where his head had been seconds before.

Reilly immediately discarded the now useless M7S, and retrieved Scott's MA5C assault rifle from the magnetic clip on the back of his armour. He chambered a round, when suddenly a Brute appeared out of nowhere from behind is cover. Reilly let loose a blast of his assault rifle. After a sustained burst for a couple of seconds, the beasts' shields finally overloaded. Reilly emptied the rest of the magazine into the hulking gorilla like alien. Bullet holes exploded all over its hairy body, purple blood spurting over the dry yellow sand.

Reilly's magazine ran dry.

"Just die, you bastard!" he screamed.

There were suddenly three muffled pings, and three armour piercing rounds punched through the Brutes helmet and into its skull. The hulking mass of flesh and hair collapsed to the floor with a loud thump.

Reilly looked around to see the silenced pistol poking out of the cockpit again. _The pilot, _he realised.

Reilly instantly snapped out of his uncontrollable rage and began to bring himself under control. He was going to make sure the pilot survived. Otherwise both Scott and Connor would have died for nothing. He was going to protect him with his life.

But first he needed to bring Connors body back, along with his sniper rifle and ammunition.

Reilly quickly reloaded the assault rifle, before aiming it down the road and poising himself to run. He thought of the lifeless body of Connor, and gritted his teeth, gripping the rifle tighter ready to unleash its power on the aliens. He began the mental countdown once more.

Three.

_I'm sorry, Connor._

Two.

_No heroics_, his drill Sergeant said in his head.

One.

Reilly started pumping his legs as fast as he could. He squeezed the trigger on the assault rifle. It bucked in his arms, the muzzle flashing. His feet pounded the dry ground with each footfall. Multi coloured plasma and green Carbine projectiles lanced all around him. It was a miracle he was not cut down right then like Connor had been.

After what seemed like an eternity of flat out running, Reilly arrived at the slumped body of his friend. He quickly slung his arms underneath Connors and began heaving the body along. The sniper rifle was still slung around his neck, thankfully.

Reilly groaned under the weight, as forced his muscles to comply. They screamed in pain, telling him to stop. He couldn't. If he stopped, he died. He pulled the dead weight of his friend with all his might, leaving a long trail in the sand. Enemy fire continued to rain all around him as Reilly finally brought the body behind the cover of the debris. It was a miracle Reilly had not been sh-

Whump.

Reilly felt something slam into his right shoulder. The force sent him crashing to the floor, dust swirling all around him. He could not catch his breath. His body was numb all over as he stared into the hazy sky.

He then finally looked down at his right shoulder. To his horror, a huge metal spike protruded from his body, covered in red blood. It had punched straight through his armour!

Then the pain started. It exploded inside his shoulder like a grenade. He screamed and writhed in agony. Then came the heat. The searing heat of the superheated spike felt like he had just drunk lava. It burned and scorched the torn flesh. The pain was almost unbearable.

But he could breath okay, which meant the spike had missed his lung and he wasn't dead, which meant it had missed his heart.

As he tried to push past the immense pain, Reilly spotted not one but three Brutes standing over him, about to leap over the debris. Bullets from the Hornet cockpit peppered their shields, pinging off harmlessly.

Adrenalin kicked in. Reilly forgot the pain and raises Connors sniper rifle. He squeezed off two shots into the nearest Brute, killing it instantly. The recoil was immense, nearly dislocating Reilly's shoulder. He then carefully aimed at the heads of the other two. He pulled the trigger twice in quick succession and both dropped like stones.

Out of ammunition, Reilly used the empty sniper rifle to help him stand up. He could no longer feel the pain of the spike imbedded in his shoulder. Once on his feet and behind cover, he quickly began rummaging in his pockets. He fished out his last three fragmentation grenades.

"Now it's your turn," Reilly whispered hoarsely, as he armed the three grenades and lobbed them over the debris before clutching his ears.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The explosions resonated throughout the ground. Reilly saw the blinding flashes of the grenades going off, and briefly glimpsed the scarred bodies of Grunts and Jackals being blasted into the air. There were a _lot_ more Covenant bodies on the sandy battlefield now than there had been a minute ago.

But there was still half a dozen or so left, with more pouring in. Reilly raised the MA5C and felt it buck satisfyingly in his arms as it unleashed its fire on the Brutes and Jackals. He mowed down a pair of the latter followed by three Grunts. Reilly heard the whisper quiet shots of the pilot's pistol again, showing that he too was helping in the fight.

Click. He was out.

Whump. Whump. Whump.

He looked down in shock. Three more spikes had punctured his armour and gone straight through. The force of the impacts sent Reilly slamming to the floor again, the air forced out of lungs. He clutched at his chest, while trying to catch his breath. Blood soaked his hands.

His own blood.

He was going to die. He knew that he was going to die right now. He had failed Connor and Scott, failed the pilot. The pilot would be killed to, or perhaps captured and brutally interrogated first. Either way, Reilly had broken his promise to get the pilot out of here. To save him.

Reilly looked around as much as he could. The Covenant were about to swarm the wreckage. It was over.

Or maybe not.

Reilly then heard a faint noise that filled him with an indescribable hope. Not hope for himself; Reilly knew he was going to die and had accepted it. It was hope for the pilot.

For the distinct low whine coming from the sky was the sound of Hornet engines. It sounded like more than one; perhaps even three from the volume of the noise. They were getting louder and louder, and more and more sand was being kicked up by their down blast. And then he saw them. The three shapes hovering in the sky, half obscured by the heavy sand storm.

Suddenly the barrels on their wings flared. Reilly could hear muffled machine gun fire as the Hornets strafed the dozens of Covenant who were threatening to over run him and the pilot. They fired back. Plasma, spikes and needles lanced out towards the sky, but the VTOL gunships just moved from side to side to avoid them.

Multi coloured blood spurted everywhere. Holes exploded into existence all over the alien masses. Some were even cut in half by the never-ending barrage of machine gun rounds. All three Hornets then let loose two missiles each. The tubes of fire shot down towards the ground, trailing smoke in their wake. All six impacted at the same time.

The explosion was immense. The fire erupted up into the sky like a volcano. All Reilly could see was a blinding fiery glare in the sky. After a moment, the shockwave hit him like a freight train, nearly picking him up and throwing him back. The noise was deafening; a deep, resonating boom that penetrated Reilly's body all the way to the bone. As the glare from the explosion began to die, he could see bodies of Grunts, Jackals and Brutes apparently floating about ten metres off the ground before crashing hard to the floor.

The Hornets mopped up the stragglers with their machine guns, before beginning their slow descent towards the crash site.

A smile spread across Reilly's face, and a new feeling of content and satisfaction swept through his body. He had saved the pilot. Scott and Connor had not died in vain, but with true heroism and honour. If it had not been for their sacrifice, the pilot would be dead or captured by now.

As the Hornets neared the ground, ready to retrieve the pilot and take him to safety, Reilly began to succumb to his injuries. As he moved into the next world, or whatever came, he thought about the life he had lived and the one he had just saved. He hoped that the pilot realised that three people had died to save him.

_No heroics_, his training Sergeant said.

"No heroics," Reilly whispered, as he breathed his final breath.


End file.
